


You Know This Is a Thing You Do, Right?

by saltsanford



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Angst, Canonical Character Death, Gen, RvB Angst War, Suicide mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-17
Updated: 2016-04-17
Packaged: 2018-06-02 21:52:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6583996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saltsanford/pseuds/saltsanford
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five times Wash and Epsilon fought after Freelancer, and one time they didn't.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Know This Is a Thing You Do, Right?

No one comes for him.

The infirmary goes up in flames and Wash lies there trapped for days, weeks, years. There must be something wrong with his helmet because it doesn't seem to be working, no one's answering him and he can't understand why that would be. Epsilon's not answering him either. There's no buzzing hum inside his head along the lines where they connect- there's nothing, nothing, nothing at all.  _Epsilon is gone_ , he keeps reminding himself, but it's too big, too incomprehensible, it's something he can't even begin to make sense of. 

"Epsilon," he says, delirious with pain and blood loss and terror, "Where are you? I need you to…I need you to come get me. Please. Come get me.”

His thoughts are loose, scattered, erratic, and Epsilon does not come for him.

No one comes for him.

* * *

**one.**

It is years before he sees Epsilon again.

When he does, it takes several heartbeats for the recognition to settle in. It's not because Epsilon is, bizarrely, currently housed in an ancient alien artifact, and it's not because his voice sounds different (he knows that voice, would know it anywhere), and it's not because he thought Epsilon was dead ( _deleted_ ). He's known of Epsilon's continued existence for some time now.

No, the recognition dawns shocking and slow because Epsilon is _there_ instead of _here_ , is outside instead of inside. His brain refuses to process it at first: he imagines that it's something like looking at a new color and having no name for it. 

His instinct doesn't want to accept it. His instinct says it's wrong.

And then his instinct tells him to _MOVE_ , because Epsilon cuts off whatever he was in the middle of saying, with a scream of, " _WASHINGTON!_ " and there's a fucking  _laser_  jetting out from his metal housing and burning through the rock, collapsing a tunnel between them.

Wash thinks, blankly,  _what_? before his instinct takes over and hauls him out of the way. He stares at the wall separating them, thinks,  _what_? again, before he asks himself, the Meta, the world at large: " _Did he just try to kill me with a laser beam?!_ "

* * *

**two.**

There's a point, during their quest to hunt down the Director, where Wash just sort of stops giving a shit about the weird tension between him and Epsilon. Epsilon clearly has zero intentions about talking about anything that may or may not have happened between, and Wash has done a pretty good job of convincing himself that he’s gone numb to the whole thing over the years. 

He's dispelled of this happy notion all at once when Carolina and Epsilon come back from York's grave and announce that it's time to go. There's something about the way Epsilon projects himself next to her shoulder instead of in front of the Warthog, something familiar, something like—

"Carolina," he says, making his voice a calm and measured thing, "can I talk to you for a moment?"

The Reds and Blues exchange a series of what they clearly think are subtle glances. Maybe he didn't do as good of a job keeping his voice as calm as he thought. 

"We're in a bit of a hurry, Washington."

"It'll just take a second."

She sighs, and the sim troopers mysteriously scatter after she spends several seconds glaring at them pointedly. Carolina finally turns to face him head-on. "What do you want, Washington?"

"I want," Wash grits out, "for you to tell me that you didn't just implant him. That he's in your storage slot."

"Of course I implanted him," Carolina says, her voice clipped, dismissive, like it means nothing, like it's the most obvious decision in the world. "He's a smart A.I. unit. This is what he was designed to do."

"He's a smart A.I.  _fragment_ ," Wash corrects, "and in case you've forgotten, that didn't exactly go over well the first time around."

Epsilon folds his arms and edges a little closer into Wash's vision. "Hey. I'm standing right here, asshole."

"Then I want you to tell me what the hell  _you_  were thinking," Wash snaps. 

Epsilon has audacity to adopt Carolina's dismissive tone as well. "Look, Wash, I know we had a bad run, but--"

"A bad run?" Wash drops his voice when he notices the Reds and Blues glance over their way. " _A bad run?_ Is that what you'd call it?"

"Just because you and I couldn't make it work doesn't mean that I should just sit around with my thumb up my-"

" _Are you serious right now?_ "

Carolina glances at him in alarm. "Washington, calm down—”

"Calm down? Calm _down?_ What is- wait." It hits him all at once, and he stares at Epsilon. "You don't remember, do you?"

"Remember what?" Epsilon snaps.

"You don't remember what happened. Why we 'couldn't make it work.' What you  _did_."

"Of course I remember," says Epsilon, but he hesitates for a beat too long.

"God," Wash mutters, then turns back to Carolina. "Carolina, you need to pull him. Now."

"Washington—”

"I'm serious. I'm so fucking serious, Carolina, I swear to _god_ —”

"I'm not pulling him," Carolina snaps, and Wash wants to scream, wants to reach into her skull and claw Epsilon straight out because she doesn't _understand,_ they don't understand-

Epsilon's voice comes sharp and ugly. "Look, just because _you_ couldn't handle--"

Something red pulses hard in Wash's head, and he turns his heel on Carolina and Epsilon. He's a good ten feet away before the anger clears enough for him to hear Epsilon say, "—don’t you walk away from me, Washington!" but he does, he keeps walking until he reaches the Blue's Warthog. Tucker’s sitting in the driver’s seat, his legs wedged up on the dashboard next to the wheel. He’s got his helmet off and is yelling encouragement at Caboose, who is currently engaged in what looks like a three-way arm wrestling match with Grif and Sarge over at the Red’s vehicle. Wash throws himself in the passenger’s seat next to Tucker and slams the door as hard as he can.

Tucker lets him sulk for a good five minutes before sighing loudly. "Alright, out with it. What are you so butt-hurt about?"

Wash says nothing, just continues to glare at where Carolina and Epsilon are conversing over by her Mongoose. Tucker follows his gaze. "Yeah, they're both being total dicks. Wanna complain about it? Because like, I’ve got a lot of material to pull from at this point.”

"She implanted him," Wash grits out. 

"Okay..."

"Not in her storage unit. She slotted him into her implants. Her _neural implants_. In her  _head_."

"Okay," Tucker says again, slower this time. "Well...I mean..."

"What?" Wash snaps. " _What_?"

"I mean...now don't freak out, but...what's the problem?"

"What's the _problem?_ "

"Isn't that what A.I. are designed for? To go in someone's head?" Tucker shrugs. "Seems pretty stupid to have him hanging around in a car or a bowling ball, as hilarious as that shit was."

"He's too unstable to go in someone's head. He's going to—he can't—someone's going to get _hurt_."

"I don't think you need to worry about that, dude. Seems like this chick can handle herself."

 _Unlike you, Washington._ "That's not—you're missing the point."

"Okay, then." Tucker turns to look at him. "Tell me the point. Tell me why you're all flipped out about it. C'mon, we got nothing better to do."

His words bring Wash up short, and he folds his arms, casting another glance to where Carolina and Epsilon are across the clearing. He's projected himself next to her shoulder, and the two of them now seem to be in the middle of an argument.

"Epsilon was your A.I. in the project, right?" Tucker sighs when Wash remains silent. "Fine, don't answer. I know it's true. So are you like, jealous or something?"

Wash's voice goes from sulk to squawk in one word. " _JEALOUS?_ Of _what?_ "

Tucker shrugs. "You know, he was your A.I., now he's hers, I can see how that would be weird."

"Jealous. You think I'm jealous? Of what? Of...it isn't...they're not...I’m not _jealous_ , I don't care, they..."

"Okay, if you're not jealous, then what are you?"

Wash spends several more seconds sputtering before giving up. Tucker says nothing, just waits. "Someone's going to get hurt," he says again, and he realizes this time that he doesn't know just who it's going to be.

* * *

**three.**

"Get rid of this for me?

Carolina hands him the long rope of her severed ponytail, and after a long moment of hesitation, Wash takes it. His movements are stiff, and he doesn't quite return her smile, but he takes her hair and walks over to the cliff side. He lets it fall, and as he watches it flutter away he thinks that they could be okay, someday.

Wash stands there for a while, a distance away from the others, and listens to their bickering and laughter. The ship will be arriving shortly to take them away— where, he doesn't quite know, and doesn't quite care. He'll follow these idiots anywhere; he knows this now.

Something blue flickers in the corner of his vision, and he turns to see Epsilon's avatar hovering several feet away from his shoulder. Epsilon is shuffling around uncomfortably, clearly hoping that Wash will speak first, but Wash doesn't. He'll stand here for five hundred goddamn years before he breaks this awkward silence. He has nothing to say to Epsilon. He has _everything_ to say to Epsilon.

Epsilon finally coughs, folding his arms over his chest. It almost looks as if he's hugging himself. "So, like, _that_ was super dramatic, with the hair. You shoulda seen her cutting it, I mean, Christ, and then you dropping it over the cliff side strand by fucking strand..." He trails off when Wash continues to stare at him blankly. "Jeez, tough crowd."

"What do you want?"

Epsilon sighs. "Okay, look, I just thought, you know, we...I...was kind of a dick, and I thought I should say...I mean, thanks, for coming..."

"I didn't come for you," Wash says. "Just so we're clear. I did  _not_  come for  _you_. I didn't come for Carolina, either. I came because they-" he gestures towards the Reds and Blues behind them "-wouldn’t have have been able to live with themselves if they didn't go, and they deserve better than that. They deserve better than _you_."

"Wash—”

Now that Wash has started, it's impossible to stop. "What did you mean, back there?" Wash cuts in.

Epsilon stares at him. "Huh?"

"In the holo-projection chamber. Right before you were an asshole to the only friends you've ever had." Wash takes a moment to let that sink in, and he hopes it bites, he hopes it  _burns_. "You said, 'I guess I should’ve seen that one coming, it’s not exactly like you're new to the concept.' What did you mean?"

"I don't- look, I was just _saying_ shit, okay-"

"Because it sounded to me," Wash interrupts, "like you were saying that I  _abandoned_  you in Freelancer. Is that what you think?"

"That's not..." Epsilon sighs, frustrated. "Look, what happened in Freelancer was complicated..."

"It wasn’t, actually. Just answer the question. You remember what happened now, don't you?" At Epsilon's nod, he gestures with his hand. 'Well, then, go on. Do you think I abandoned you?"

"I...yes. Okay? You may as well have."

Wash jerks back despite this being the answer he was expecting. "You—how can you even—"

But Epsilon's the one interrupting, now. "You should've tried harder- you should've listened, you should've _run_ —"

Wash's head fills with a buzzing fog at those words; how dare he say _those words_ , like they haven’t been racing through Wash’s nightmares for years and years, like he hasn’t repeated them to himself, _believed_ them himself, in his darkest moments. For several seconds, he can see nothing but grey, hear nothing but static. When the world clears again, he's lost the thread of what Epsilon was saying, but he cuts in anyway. " _You_  left  _me_."

"What?" And Epsilon looks so genuinely confused that Wash gives up-- gives up keeping his voice down, gives up dancing around the issue, gives up trying to hold back the anger that's been brewing in him for years.

"You  _left_  me. You tried to kill yourself in my  _head_. I tried to blow my fucking _brains_ out when you did it, do you remember that?"

"I—”

"You made me think I was suicidal," Wash spits. "For _years_. I didn't know if it was me putting that gun to my head, or you. You took control—my arms—you tried to—you took _everything_ from me."

Across the clearing, sees Carolina's back go rigid, and he knows that it has nothing to do with the way Grif is still fiddling with her freshly cut hair. He doesn’t know what his words have made Epsilon feel, but it must’ve been something. He doesn’t care. The sim troopers either haven't noticed yet or are doing a really good job of pretending they haven't. "I should've run," Wash says, so low it's almost a whisper. "I should've run, but you should've...you didn't...we were supposed to be partners."

"Wash—"

"You should've had my back," he says, because that’s it, right there. "And you didn't. Don't ever look me in the face and tell me it was my fault, ever again."

"Oh, and for the record?" He leans forward, gets right up in Epsilon’s space, grateful for once that he isn’t wearing his helmet so Epsilon can see how much he _means_ his next words. "If you ever hurt Caboose and Tucker like that again, I will find a way to tear you apart."

Epsilon flickers at that. "They're my fucking team, Wash—”

"And they're my family. I want you to go, now."

"Wash—"

"I said go!"

Epsilon goes. Wash does not watch him leave.

* * *

 

**four.**

There's a moment, before they put their plan into action at the radio tower, that they all have a chance to breathe. He lets Tucker tell him off for "Trying to pull some more self-sacrificial bullshit, Jesus Christ, don't think we're done with this fucking conversation but I have to go prepare myself to be a goddamn hero," makes Caboose sit down and eat something, and stops Sarge from wasting his ammo on "target practice," before he finds himself standing next to Epsilon, watching Carolina yell at Grif.

"I seem to recall telling you," Wash says conversationally. "That if you made Caboose cry again, I'd tear you apart wire by wire."

Epsilon sputters indignantly. "What- he was fine when we came back! Did you miss his fucking _motivational speech_?"

"And _before_ that, he spent three months spiraling into a depression and building himself a new best friend who tried to kill us all."

Epsilon sighs. "Aw, shit."

"Yeah. Nice job."

"I didn't mean—”

"Then why did you?"

"We thought—"

"Because you know this is a thing that you do, right?"

Epsilon stops. "What's a thing?"

"You leave," Wash says simply. "When things get tough, you leave. People, places, it doesn't matter. You leave them all behind. You don't care."

"That's not true."

"Isn't it?"

"I care," Epsilon's says sulkily. It's a Trademark Church Sulk, but there's something underneath it that lets Wash know Epsilon is actually hurt. "I care...it's just..."

"It's just what?"

Epsilon drops his voice to a near incomprehensible mutter. "I mess it up. When I...care. Or try to help. I mess it up."

"You know you're not Alpha, right?"

Epsilon jerks, surprised. "What? Of course I know that. What the fuck does that even _mean?_ "

Wash shrugs. Across the way, Carolina's now trying to out-scream Sarge. "Alpha was made to think that he failed, over and over again. It's natural that you would inherent some—”

"Oh, just shut the fuck—what, now you're some kind of expert on that bullshit?"

"I have the same memories you do, Epsilon," Wash says quietly. "So, yeah. I am an expert. Maybe you should stop feeling sorry for yourself and listen to what I'm saying."

Epsilon actually shuts up for a few moments, and when he speaks again, the words come so fast Wash almost misses them. "Gonnafuckitup."

"What?"

"Tucker. The helmet cam. The radio tower. _I'm gonna fuck it up_."

"Look—”

"Why are you even letting me do this, anyway?" Epsilon bursts, suddenly angry. "I mean, _Christ!_  You had a fucking meltdown when I implanted in Carolina, and this is....this is...it's _Tucker_."

Wash ignores whatever  _that's_  supposed to mean. "If I had it my way, there's no way in hell this would be happening. No. Way."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence," Epsilon mutters sourly.

"You haven't earned it, Epsilon. Not mine or anyone else's."

"Well, fuck! Don't let me do this, then!"

"Unfortunately, it's not up to me. It's up to _Tucker_." Wash pauses and glances across the clearing to where Tucker is standing, and no, they are _absolutely_ not done with their earlier conversation. "So, don't let him down. Don't fuck it up."

* * *

 

**five.**

"I fucked it up."

Epsilon's voice whispers across the dark room and despite the fact that it's the middle of the night, and none of them have spoken in hours, and there's really no way for Epsilon to know that Wash is awake, Wash knows the words are meant for him. Tucker's breathing is deep and even across the room, and Wash lets it reassure him ( _he’s okay, they're okay, we're okay_ ) before he responds. "Yeah, well. So did I."

It's not exactly gentle, but it's far less harsh than what he said to Epsilon when he'd first stumbled back, bloodied and bruised from his fight with Locus, and collapsed in the dirt next to Tucker. He'd pressed his hands uselessly into the wound in Tucker's stomach and glared fiercely at Epsilon and said, "This is _your_ fault."

"I didn't listen to him," Tucker had slurred up at him. "S'not his fault, Wash, stop, m'okay, see..."

And he _was_ , he was okay. Luckily. They'd all been so goddamn lucky. Tucker's words hadn't really registered at the time, but several days have gone by and Wash knows that this is probably true: that Tucker _didn't_ listen. He's gotten the full story from several different people now and from the way he understands it, Tucker had thought his friends were in danger, and charged forward, heedless of consequence.

Wash hadn't thought to factor that into their plans. _Stupid, stupid, stupid._ "I fucked it up too. I should've given him my healing unit."

"If you had, you'd be dead." 

If one more person says this to him, Wash thinks he might scream. "So what?" he snaps before he can stop himself.

"Jesus, Wash."

"I didn't..." Wash takes a breath. "That's not what I meant."

"You know this is a thing you do, right?"

Wash sits up in bed at that and glares over at Epsilon, who's perched cross-legged on Tucker's rising and falling chest. Throwing his own words back at him. Typical. "Very funny."

"It's uh, actually _not_ funny. Tucker's right, you know. You _are_ careless with your life."

"I'm not talking about this with you."

Epsilon shrugs. "That's fine, dude."

"It's not that I'm...look, their lives are more important than mine. It's just a fact. I have to...I have to keep them safe."

Epsilon sobers at that. "Yeah. Shame I suck at helping that cause. Keeping them safe."

"Epsilon, don't," Wash sighs. "Don't, just..."

He doesn't know why he's doing this: arguing the point, trying to make Epsilon feel better when he's right, he  _did_  fuck up. He fucked up big time.

Wash thinks that he's fucked up big time fairly often himself.

"Look," he says, and Epsilon does look, takes his helmet out of his hands and looks at Wash in a way that makes him ache. "We...we messed up. We just...we keep...moving forward, I guess. Right?"

"Right," says Epsilon slowly, and they stay like that for a while, Wash staring at the ceiling, Epsilon flickering above Tucker's chest like a blue, beating heart.

* * *

**_twofouroneten._ **

It's weeks before he listens to Epsilon's message.

He isn't sure how many of them have listened to theirs yet. Simmons had distributed their messages wordlessly, onto individual chips. Carolina had stormed out without taking hers, and Wash still doesn't know if she went back for it. Caboose had played his message on the spot and sobbed onto Tucker's shoulder for the better part of an hour, and the worst part was that Tucker let him. When Wash had tried to sidle quietly out of the room to give them a moment, Tucker had grabbed his wrist wordlessly. Wash had stayed and rubbed a hand up and down Caboose's back, feeling awkward but somehow not out of place.

What the rest of them did with their messages, he isn't sure.

He doesn't know why today is the day, but he walks until he reaches the lake and the very edges of their base. It's secluded enough that he doesn't think he'll be disturbed, and he leans back against a tree, takes off his helmet, and presses play on the chip in his hand.

"Hey, Wash." Epsilon's avatar winks to life in front of him, and Wash forgets how to breathe, because Epsilon _isn't in his armor_. He's in jeans and a hoodie and glasses and he looks just like Wash remembers him from their days together in Freelancer, down to the scuff marks on his sneakers. His stomach heaves, and for a moment, he’s sure he’s going to vomit, or scream, and he forces his grip to loosen on the chip in his palm.

"So uh, hope I didn't make Caboose cry again. Guess you got your wish though, right? Ha ha..." Epsilon's avatar slaps a hand over his face. "God, that was bad. Pretend I didn't say that. I should restart this, but I've already tried to record this fucking message like six times and it just gets worse and worse, so..." There's a pause, during which Epsilon stares off thoughtfully into space. 

"I fucked it up," he says suddenly. "I fucked it up, and you’re right. Here I am still doing the leaving thing. I know you’re thinking it and I won’t try to argue with you, cause  _fuck_ , maybe you’re right, maybe this is just me leaving, and taking off again, but I  _swear_  to you Wash, I  _swear_ , I’ve run the numbers, D’s run the numbers, and there is no way,  _no way,_  everyone is going to make it out alive if I don’t _-_ ”

Epsilon breaks off with a laugh. At least, Wash thinks it’s supposed to be a laugh, but it sounds more like a sob tearing wide open. Which is stupid and ridiculous because Epsilon is an A.I. and has no need for tears, or sobbing, and neither does Wash, but he screws his eyes up tight anyway, and presses his head back hard against the trunk of the tree.

“You said I took everything from you,” Epsilon continues, much more quietly. “I hope... I mean, you said it, so I’m sure it must be true... but Christ, I can’t help but hope that... Cause here’s the thing. This thing that I am, the place my code first came from, for _me_ , it all started with  _you_. At least, that’s how I choose to remember it. So, yeah, in spite of the shitty start, somehow I feel like I ended up with everything. That  _you_ , gave me everything... because how else would I have ended up _here_ without first being implanted in you? I know I’m fucking this up too, that I’m supposed to be saying  _sorry_  but it always just gets tangled up in _thank you_ , so, fuck it. I’ll fuck this up too. I just need you to,” and Epsilon takes a shuddering breath and stops speaking, maybe because he knows that asking Wash for favors is a thing that isn’t done.

Wash finds his chest too hollow to mind.

“Take care of the guys for me, okay?” Epsilon continues. “One Blue Team leader to another. Just…take care of them.”

Epsilon’s avatar disappears so abruptly that Wash’s eyes still hold the shape of his sharp, electric blue outline. He blinks several times, but the burning feeling won’t go away, and his eyes feel tight and hot.

Wash sits there for a while, as the sky turns from blue, to red, to black.

To midnight. 

He presses play again.

**Author's Note:**

> MAJOR THANKS TO MY BETA [MiniMax](http://archiveofourown.org/users/MiniMax/pseuds/MiniMax) for her help getting Epsilon's voice right at the end. We on the same wavelength when it comes to this kinda thing. <3
> 
> This was written for the RVB angst war, for the prompt "please come get me," from bluesrat, and it coincided perfectly with an idea that I've had for a while. I AM STILL FULL OF FEELINGS ABOUT THESE TWO OKAY DON'T LOOK AT ME.


End file.
